Chronicles Part II - Corby (1)

When I think about it now, it was post war Britain with all that entailed - including rations - and Mum, Dad and I were living in a small flat in a sandstone tenement block in Whiteinch, Glasgow with at least one non-kid friendly neighbour, so it was probably no surprise that, when the opportunity came along for an apparently improved lifestyle, Mum and Dad grasped it with both hands.

Dad was working in Stephen's shipyard (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexander_Stephen_and_Sons) and the boom war years were over. Stewart's and Lloyd's (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stewarts_%26_Lloyds) steelworks in Corby, Northants (or Northamptonshire, to give it its full moniker) were looking for workers and started a huge recruitment campaign in the Glasgow area. Dad took the opportunity to make the move - less than 400 miles away, but, in days when working class people didn't have cars and didn't travel far, and there were no motorways anyway, Corby may as well have been the dark side of the moon.

It was a new life for us, with a proper house provided - end terrace, but with upstairs and downstairs of its own - and better wages, to boot. Corby was one of the first of the Government's New Towns under the 1946 Act (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_Towns_Act_1946). The streets round where we lived were all named after famous English painters - we lived at 19 Landseer Court (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edwin_Henry_Landseer), but nearby were streets named after Gainsborough, Constable, Turner and many others.

When I was 5, I attended Hazel Leys Primary School:

Like the cardigan? Ahead of its time, I think.

In those early days of Corby New Town, before all the estates were fully developed, we were surrounded by fields and I used to go play in them with my pals. I also remember kicking a ball against what I think may have been a door in a row of garages. Compared to some of the other kids, I got pretty useful at football and I recall playing a lot with a boy called Michael Sanderson (I think) and he was a bit better than me, but we would always contrive to be on the same side if we could, making sure we always won!

I also recall experimenting with matches - I must have been 8 or 9 at the time. I have no idea how this started and who the instigator was, but I do recall one incident of setting a wooden box or bin on fire. We scarpered and we thought we got away with it, but there must have been some evidence of me literally playing with fire, because I recall Dad warning me of the dangers and giving me a row. One day, I came home with marks on my legs and Dad assumed they had been caused by me disobeying his instructions and I was sent to bed early, probably with a sore bum too! It later transpired that I had impetigo (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Impetigo) - I remember Dad coming to apologise to me afterwards for getting it wrong.

I also remember us getting TV - that was a novelty. There was only one channel at first - it was a couple of years before ITV started up. I have memories of watching Wimbledon tennis with Mum after I came home from school.

Obviously, with Dad out at work all day, I spent most of my time at home with Mum, and she was always knitting or doing crochet, and eventually I would learn these skills from her. I think I became quite competitive  about how well I could do it - and how quickly.

A traumatic moment in Mum's life came in 1954 just as I started school. She gave birth to twins, Barry and Sheila, but Sheila didn't survive. I don't think she ever quite got over that. Dawn arrived just 16 months later and at least now they had a daughter.

I'm not quite sure exactly when it was, but I imagine it was some time after Dawn was born that we got our first car - a Ford Anglia, FNV 347 - we all still remember that car and its registration with some affection. I recall bank holiday trips to the seaside - it was, and still is, something of an English tradition. We were living in the heart of England, land-locked, and it was a bit of an excursion just to get to the sea. Our usual spot was Hunstanton (on The Wash), but to get there, you had to go through King's Lynn, which, in those days was (in)famous for its level crossing and the major traffic jams it used to cause. We probably spent more time in the car than we did on the beach.

I've reached a convenient time to stop - and, as Blogspot is again not allowing me to upload any more photos, I'll quit this episode here and now. Look out for another thrilling chapter in Renshaw's Chronicles - coming soon to your PC!